SSS-Class Suicide Hunter

The time he waited, the time he walked.

(6) [ Our inquisition is a faction.

] His teacher started the story like that.

[ What is Jeongpa? How would you answer? ] At the teacher's words, he was lost in thought.

Right, straight, straight.

He answered as he thought.

[ I think it means to pursue the right thing as it is meant to be.

] [ What is right? ] He thought and answered.

[ It's literally not wrong.

] [ What is the difference between what is not wrong and what is wrong? ] He thought, but did not answer.

The master raised his bandaged hand and pointed in one direction.

[ Do you see that 'what'? ] He looked in the direction the Master was pointing.

Clouds of wool were floating in the torn blue spring sky.

[ It looks like a cloud.

] [ okay.

it's a cloud ] The master nodded and asked.

[How does that look? ] The teacher's question made him fall into deep thought again.

He answered after a while.

[Looks sad.

] [Why?] [ Because I am alone in the vast sky.

] [ Hmmm.

] A gap widened across the teacher's bald face.

smile spreads The master squatted down and said.

[The first thing you said was 'correct'.

] It is not wrong to call a cloud a cloud, his teacher said.

[ Seeing heaven and earth as it is.

accepting it as it is.

A mountain is a mountain, a cloud is a cloud, the wind is the wind, and water is the mindset of Jeongpa.

] Cuckoo.

A reed bitten by a lip that was alone with no eyes and no nose cracked like a teddy bear.

[Then what you said was 'wrong'.

] The teacher said that it was not right to put one's impressions on the clouds.

[Why is the sky so clear? It's because you don't know how I feel.

Why are the clouds floating alone? It's because you sympathize with my situation...

these sights.

In this interpretation, mountains cannot be mountains and water cannot be water in the view.

This is the so-called mage attitude.

] The master murmured the reeds.

[In other words, the faction is trying to contain the world by emptying itself, and the magician is trying to connect with the world by using it as a rope.

] [ .......

] [ Both have clear limitations.

In the world of factions, mountains are just mountains, so they cannot relate to me.

Conversely, in the world of magic, all things cannot exist apart from me.

] As he listened to his master's explanation, he thought of those who forged him and those he had cut.

The master raised his bandaged fist.

[I hit you in the head.

Because that was the introductory procedure for this monk.

Why do you think the procedure came about? ] [ To clear the head.

] So he answered, and continued with a polite attitude.

[ Because it can be stored only when it is empty.

] [ That's right.

] The master nodded.

[Man is human, so it is difficult to see a mountain as a mountain.

You need to cut out the contexts that have settled in your head once.

You were also special by birth and needed more.

] [ I thought it was because of my hard head.

] [ Of course, there was a reason.

] There was a moment of silence.

The master smiled and pulled the reed out of his mouth by inserting it between his index and middle fingers.

[I'm so empty of you, my disciple.

don't get me wrong Whether it is a faction or a magician, it has value as much as the limitations of the two.

In other words, both extremes are dangerous.

] [ Speaking of danger.

] [ Imagine, for example, the uninhabited man of a certain faction.

This famous warrior has reached the realm of a god, and can only see humans as human beings.

People who mourn over the loss of their barely-begotten child, or those who were born into a wealthy family and have lived their lives unaware of their shortcomings, are just the same human beings in his view.

] The master sighed.

[Once you become accustomed to seeing the world as the world, in the end you will regard all things as inanimate objects.

Those who truly value the world as equals are nothing more than monsters who cannot sympathize with anything.

] After speaking clearly, the master glanced at him.

[Don't be like that.

] [ .......

] [ I have received you as my disciple.

empty you Forged in the midst of magic, I will teach you how to see the world rightly.

But my son! That 'world' includes the hearts of those who forged you, even the feelings you feel for them.

] The master said with the tip of his sword on the floor.

[The loneliness you have embraced is also a part of the world.

Just like there is no need to overestimate, there is no need to throw it away.

Accept that weight.

] The master's sword pointed to the cloud floating on the other side.

[ Accept it! ] He saw it.

[ Accept the world, yourself! ] He did.

[Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! ] He stood up and took a deep breath.

opened his mouth.

shouted A roar resounded with a profuse, spring-killing force.

It wasn't on his face.

While shouting with all his might, his eyebrows wrinkled slightly.

There were no tears, and therefore no weeping.

But that was his scream.

[ okay.

] The master nodded.

[Spit it out.

cry Don't throw away what you inherited, but make room for other things to come in.

Then I told you--- ] The Master said in a lively tone.

[I will teach you how to smile.

] The master kept his promise.

6.

[ Complete key printing.

] T.O.P's announcement this time was very quick.

As soon as I entered the 96th floor, it rang.

[ The number of works depicting your life, the number of people who have seen them, and the number of people who have changed their lives due to the influence of those works satisfy the prescribed figures.

] [ The 96th floor is cleared! ] So the stairs leading to the 97th floor appeared.

However, those who heard the tower's declaration did not step towards the stairs.

He quietly followed in the footsteps of the designated cartoonist.

The designated tribal cartoonist was locked up in his workshop and lamenting about his condition.

“Fuck.

I have no money, no Gao? no.

okay.

If there is no money, the world disappears even without Gao.

Know.

I know, but I really...

Oh, shall I climb the tower too? Did you learn martial arts and become an adventurer?”

Just as animals travel where they come and go, if you repeat lamentations over and over, you will shine.

The cartoonist's complaints were familiar and flowed smoothly without the help of alcohol.

“Why did I hold the pen and not the sword? Why were you filthy with food and not blood?”

The gaze of the cartoonist who was looking at his manuscript turned to the manga magazine released this month.

On the cover, there were cartoon characters of Kim Selam or Park Selam who built a building in paradise.

The lamentation towards oneself quickly turned into a resentment towards others.

"envy… puppy like a dog.

If I draw something that I like, other people will like it and it would be nice.

damn it Everyone else lives as they please, so why am I the only one suffering like this...

.”

Jealousy makes the heart heavy.

The cartoonist of the designated tribe, who had been grinding his teeth, eventually got tired of his grass and fell on his work table.

In his head, which had become as heavy as wet cotton, the image of Confucius god, the smiling black dragon-ju, and the hyper-cube, who became an old man with a beard and then became a hyper-cube again, passed by and collapsed.

A snoring sound resounded in the small workshop.

[ You can enter the 97th floor at any time.

] There was a gaze at the cartoonist who had fallen asleep like that.

The cartoonist could not feel that gaze towards himself.

It's not just because I fell asleep.

It was because it was a gaze that no one in this world, not just the cartoonist, could feel.

But his gaze was clearly on the cartoonist.

The owner of the gaze was also clearly in the same position as the cartoonist.

- .......

In this world, a hand that has no substance touched the cartoonist's shoulder.

moved up and down It was as if his hand was comforting a sleeping cartoonist.

- .......

The owner of the hand pursed his lips slightly.

That voice did not reach the cartoonist.

The touch will not be transmitted to the cartoonist either.

It must have collapsed without leaving any traces above it, which could never be conveyed because of its different levels and therefore would have no meaning.

- .......

it wasn't.

- ......, ......, ...............

There was no such thing as an oracle with a specific message.

There was neither a sudden awakening of skill by a cartoonist nor a return of the spirit of a cartoonist with ideas for a comic book that would be a hit in the future.

Every time his hand touched his shoulder, the cartoonist's breath became easier.

Jealousy subsided and resentment dissipated.

- .......

That night, the cartoonist had a dream.

It was a fearless dream...

There was a man… He was a human man...

The man was confined to a room smaller than a cartoonist's studio, voicing his dissatisfaction with the world and lamentations...

Everything outside the tower was unfair...

Everything in the tower was absurd...

It seemed that there was nowhere for men to be...

.

That insignificant man was suddenly given a certain skill.

It was truly a skill suited to a man… As if someone had been looking at a man for a long time and prepared it, it was a skill that fit so well that it was difficult to understand unless it was custom-made for a man...

If there was something special about that skill, it was only in the sense that it was made for him...

That skill contained his life like that...

.

Perhaps the man was not alone.

Even while he was on his knees lamenting, and while he was being succumbed to evil and voicing his resentment towards the world, the man would not have been alone.

Someone must have been with a man.

The man did not feel it at the time, but now, the man knew it.

I knew it very clearly.

- to you.

As he read through the manga artist, the man licked his lips.

- Good luck to you.

The cartoonist jumped up from his seat.

The cartoonist looked around as if he had seen a ghost.

Inside the darkened workshop, the cartoonist was alone.

At least, the cartoonist had no choice but to recognize that.

"......." The cartoonist furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about the dream he had just had.

I thought for a long time.

The cartoonist imagined a story while desperately capturing and weaving the contents of dreams that were about to be scattered like the sighs of an old woman scattered in the winter wind.

I wasn't sure at first, but the images gradually became bolder and sharper.

The cartoonist nodded.

Then I called somewhere.

“Hello, editor.”

“Writer?”

The voice of an elf, who had just woken up from his sleep, was nervous through the receiver.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

"Ah." The cartoonist blushed, and then it was dawn.

A voice of pain was heard over the receiver: "No, not once or twice...

Just say it.

Writer.

What is it?" In another sense, the cartoonist blushed and coughed in vain: "That's right.

There's a cartoon." “Ah, yes.

Hmm.

I thought about it a bit, but if Top-ju is not a pretty boy, but a cute mascot animal with a jewel on its forehead---”

“Can I draw a new one?”

Silence passed.

The cartoonist waited for an answer with a pounding heart.

After a while, the answer came.

"New?" You can't see the expression through the handset.

From that answer, the cartoonist couldn't tell if the editor was angry, bored, or just curious.

The cartoonist exclaimed with an excuse: "Yeah… that's, um, I think I can draw a better cartoon than what I showed you…”

There was silence again, the cartoonist said urgently, "No, that's… I'm a little… much more than what I showed you yesterday…." “Are you sure?”

This time the cartoonist was silent, and the editor asked eagerly, "So, are you sure?" The cartoonist thought deeply.

Are you sure? Are you sure of this path? Are you sure of this material? Are you not sure? Confident? Even when you first decided to become an artist, you weren’t sure.

I don't know if the creators of the creators really exist in this world.

At least the cartoonists don't know.

But, nevertheless, "I can take responsibility." The cartoonist replied with his head bowed, a long silence, and then a sigh flowed over the receiver.

The cartoonist knew the meaning of that attitude, and he said, in a half faceless and half exhilarating voice: "I'll make money.

I'll make money...

Maybe." “Maybe what…”

"Help." Said the cartoonist, “Help me.”

There was silence for a while with the phone in between, and eventually, as historically always, the elf raised the white flag first.

The editor lamented, "Okay, I'll wait." The cartoonist's face lit up in color: "Thank you!" "If you really appreciate it, hit it.

Please let me get some bonus money or something." “I will do my best…”

“Yes.

Hang up.”

So the call ended.

Putting down the phone, the cartoonist nodded.

The manuscript I drew last time was folded neatly and placed in the drawer, and he picked up the pen.

A finger, more excited than his heart, held the pen and cracked the blank manuscript paper.

I was still not sure, but this time it felt good.

It was really good - .......

similar feeling, others were feeling it too.

He watched the cartoonist start working.

How fast is the work? There seemed to be six pens, not one, running fast across the paper, and the faces that unconsciously imitated the expressions of the characters seemed not to be one, but three.

The way he was absorbed in the work as if possessed was reminiscent of the name of the tribe to which the cartoonist belonged, Asura.

Perhaps the cartoonist doesn't make as much money as he expected.

You will be disappointed with people's reactions and frustrated with your own abilities.

However, after overcoming all those hardships, at least he would be able to create a work where he could feel that he did his best.

The cartoonist himself did not know that fact.

The editor won't even know.

But those who were with them knew it.

- .......

Like a cloud floating in the spring sky, his warm gaze glanced at the cartoonist once and then turned.

[ Enter the 97th floor.

] The end was approaching.394.